Choose the Rain
by Fear the Pretty People
Summary: After dragging Steve out of the water, Bucky finds himself trying to adjust to a somewhat normal life in a small town where he can go unnoticed. Mina can't help but notice the quiet man who frequents her favorite coffee shop. Can Bucky actually have a normal life? And can Mina be part of it? Bucky/OFC, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Action. Post CA:TWS. CA:CW does not apply. See A/N.
1. Prologue

_He was walking up onto the shore again, dragging the unconscious man he'd been fighting… The one he'd just saved from drowning. He looked down at him. Steve. The memories came to his mind slowly. _

_A sickly kid taking swings at older boys he had no business fighting. _

_The same person, older, trying to dance with a woman, but only succeeding in stepping on her feet. _

_The man he was now dropping onto the ground, waking him up, looking entirely different from what he knew. Dragging him through hallways. The relief of seeing his friend again. The man with the red face._

_Both of them with a group of other men they knew running through the forest, climbing through snow, laughing in bars._

_He tried to shake his head and walk away from the man lying beside him but couldn't. He couldn't make his legs move. He shut his eyes, ready to use all of his energy to force his left leg to lift of the ground, but when he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the shore. _

_Hundreds of people were moving around him. He looked down. His black tactical gear was gone, replaced by the clothes he'd found in his efforts to go unnoticed. He raised his eyes back up to the wall in front of him. The one that displayed a picture of the face of James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. His face. He watched the soundless video of himself standing with Steve, laughing. He saw his date of death. The people moving around him began to stare at him with eyes growing so wide they began to cover their entire faces. He tasted bile rising in the back of his throat and tried to walk out of the building only to find he still could not move his legs. He heard all noise stop as the people around him, their eyes bulging out of their faces, stopped, eerily still, to concentrate on him. He became dizzy and tried to take several deep breaths to keep from vomiting but his lungs wouldn't fill. He threw back his head to look at the ceiling, anything to focus on except for those around him. But the ceiling wasn't there._

_He stared up at the night sky. The city lights around him too bright to see many stars. He walked along a street that was both familiar and completely foreign to him. He'd grown up here. He'd walked this street a thousand times, but now everything was different. The signs, the shops. Most of the buildings were the same, but what was in them had changed. He watched as his shoes changed from boots to loafers while the sun came up too quickly._

_He looked to his right to find Steve, a foot shorter, walking along beside him. Bucky smiled. Steve was going on about the baseball game they were walking home from. Steve was so animated at times like this Bucky thought you could almost forget he was sick._

"_So, where you headed?"_

_Bucky's head whipped to the left to the man sitting beside him in the cab of the truck._

"_Pittsburgh for now," Bucky answered, evenly._

"_You running from or to?"_

"_I'm sorry?" Bucky asked the man, trying to focus._

"_With hitchhiker's it's one or the other. Are you running from something or to something?"_

"_I'm just looking for work."_

_The man didn't seem to mind that Bucky hadn't exactly answered his question. "Work's hard to find just about anywhere these days. Hope you're lucky there."_

"_Me too." Bucky turned to look out the window, but the door to the truck was gone. Though the vehicle rolled along smoothly, Bucky felt himself being pulled from the cab. Unable to hold onto the seat he was in, practically unheard of considering his arm, he fell. Curling in on himself, he lifted his arms to protect his head and waited to hit the ground._

Bucky jerked where he lay. He held very still for a few moments and counted to ten. He reminded himself where he was. He took note of the bulky mattress beneath him, and the cover over him. He opened his eyes slowly. Above him was the same ceiling he'd been waking up to for the past year, the sun slowly lighting it through the window. He breathed deeply, allowing his heart rate to slow down some more. He was alone and safe in his small apartment.

He sat up slowly and looked at his clock. 5:55 a.m. He turned off the alarm that would sound in five minutes.

Standing up, he made his way from the bedroom to the tiny kitchen and living room, grabbed a glass and filled it from the faucet. He walked over to the window beside the armchair and small bookcase. Down on the street, he watched the town waking up. Maybe a dozen kids still making their way into adulthood walked drowsily along the sidewalks, stopping in coffee shops on their way to early morning study sessions, or home for some sleep after an all-nighter at the university library. In another hour or two, the street would be filled with students and locals alike attempting to coexist.

Bucky had meant to find a city other than New York to lie low for a bit, but then he'd stopped in this small Ohio town. To say it was smaller than Brooklyn was a hilarious understatement. Bucky had expected it to be difficult to go unnoticed in such a small, quiet neighborhood, but something made him stay anyway. It certainly wasn't a place he'd be expected to stay. Hydra and Steve could rack their brains forever and never think to look for him in this type of place. As it turned out, it had been ideal for him. The nearby university meant that half of the residents were preoccupied with dealing with the onslaught of students for most of the year and the other half were the students, busy with their studies and friends. A grand total of zero people had cared or even noticed when Bucky had started working at the garage that specialized in restoring old and classic cars. They certainly didn't pay him any mind if he sat in one of the little coffee shops for a while. For the students, if it wasn't their studies, it was parties. For the locals, if it wasn't complaining about the students, it was living out their normal lives. Bucky passed by unnoticed. Hardly anyone in this town cared about what was happening with the Avengers, either. They'd talk for a couple days if something big happened, but for the most part, it was too far away to really worry about. At any rate, it didn't seem anyone recognized him and it'd been a year.

Bucky finished drinking his water, sat the empty glass back down by the sink, and moved back through the little bedroom to his bathroom to take a shower and prepare for work. He stopped in front of the small mirror on the wall and looked at himself. Just like every morning, he repeated everything he knew was true.

"My name is Bucky Barnes. I was born March 10, 1917. My parents were George and Winnifred Barnes. I had a sister named Rebecca. I was a friend to Steve Rogers. I was a Sergeant in the 107th Infantry Regiment. I was taken as, and have been, a prisoner of war." He took a deep breath and continued. "The current year is 2016. I am 99 years old." Staring hard at his reflection, he forced out the last bit he knew.

"I am not the Winter Soldier."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I'm leaving this blanket disclaimer here for the entire story. These characters are obviously not created by me with the exception of the OFC (and a couple of her friends) that will be introduced in the first chapter. If you recognize the names, they aren't mine. I'm just taking them for a joyride. **

A/N: Hellooooo and welcome to this story. First things first, this takes place where Civil War would have started, but I wanted to change things up a bit. This will NOT be following Civil War, though I will be working in some plot points from the movie. All in all, I didn't much care for Tony Stark in that movie and I wanted to see if I could make him slightly more logical and sympathetic (in my eyes). You'll also notice that Bucky hasn't run away to Romania. Apologies to Mr. Stan's home country, I'm just switching it up a bit.

Second things second. To those of you who might be waiting on an update to the second story in the Winter's Rebirth trilogy-I WILL continue writing it. Life happened and I lost track of what I'd wanted to do with that story. I didn't make an outline before starting it and that was a mistake. When I decide where I want to go with it, I will outline and continue it, but I'm working on this one first. This one, I assure you, has been outlined and I know exactly where I'm going with it. I expect it to be around 22 chapters altogether, give or take some possible changes.

As always, thank you for reading this story! Any feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy!


	2. Here's That Rainy Day

Mina tapped her pen on the table as she stared out the window. Outside of Finnegan's coffee shop, it was pouring rain. People, most laden with backpacks, walked along the street underneath their umbrellas. Every once in a while, someone who had left their home not expecting rain would run past the window, heading for the next shop awning or simply hoping to make it to their destination as quickly as possible. Mina had left her umbrella at home, as well. She didn't mind. Walking in the rain wasn't the worst thing that could happen to a person, and she liked stormy weather, anyway. Her only care was for the half edited pages of manuscript in front of her and they would be safe enough in her bag.

She sighed down at the pieces of paper. Editing had to be done, but it was her least liked part of the writing process… aside from writer's block. Setting down her red pen, she picked up her coffee and took a drink, letting her eyes wonder around the mostly empty coffee shop. She was a little surprised it wasn't half-filled with people wanting to wait out the storm. Besides herself, there were only five other people. The two baristas behind the counter used the lull to clean, one laughing at a story the other told. Two older women sat closer to the entrance, smiling and animated in their conversation. Lastly was the man a couple tables away from Mina, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, sitting beside one of the two large picture windows in the back of the shop. Mina was sitting beside the other. She'd seen this man here before. He was always quiet and always alone. Not that that said much as Mina was always quiet and alone, also. Sometimes, like her, he brought a book along. Today he was just watching the rain. He'd arrived shortly after her and, after receiving his coffee, had settled in at the table he always chose if it was open. Mina had thought he'd looked familiar, though she was certain that they'd never met. Eventually she'd just put it down to him having 'one of those faces.' Not that she could really ever see his face very clearly. He always wore the same ball cap and had a habit of keeping his face slightly turned down. She realized she'd been staring too long as she saw his shoulders and his gloved hand on the table tense very slightly as he turned his face away from the rain to look at her. She dropped her eyes back down to the typed pages in front of her quickly, picking her pen back up.

"Smooth, Byrne. He definitely didn't notice your creepy staring," she told herself, sarcastically. The bell above the door sounded that either another customer had entered or the women had left. Mina didn't look up again. Instead she tried to focus on the paragraph she'd left off on. She'd made a couple of notes in the margin when she had the feeling there were eyes on her. In a knee-jerk reaction she looked up and locked eyes with the man across from her. Unlike her, he didn't immediately look away. He held her gaze for a moment, face completely relaxed and just a little inquisitive. Then, with a slight flinch of his eyes, as if he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be staring after all, he went back to watching the rain. Mina looked back down at the paragraph she still hadn't finished. She felt slightly bewildered, but noted that, now that she'd seen them clearly, he had nice eyes.

"Hey, Meens, how's it going?"

Mina jumped just a little when she felt the hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see her friend Addy trying not to laugh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Addy added.

"Oh, I expect I deserve it anyway," Mina replied, smiling. "Wanna join me?" She motioned to the seat across from her.

"I'd love to, but can't." Addy readjusted her purse on her shoulder while trying to juggle her drink and her umbrella. "I'm just here for some quick caffeine. I've got a class in half an hour and I still need to get back to my office and grab the papers I have to return to them." Addy rolled her eyes. "The meetings to follow will be fun."

Mina smiled. Addy had been teaching various literature classes full-time at the university for about six years. She knew her friend, complain as she might, was enjoying the hell out of the critical theory class she'd managed to earn the chance to teach this semester. "Please, you love it, even if it is a Saturday class. Any aspiring great minds?" She picked up her coffee to take another drink.

"Maybe. We'll see how revisions go." Addy shrugged. "But to my reason for scaring the hell outta you: wanna do dinner tonight?"

Addy continued to struggle to readjust her purse so Mina stood and took the umbrella that was causing the problem. "Here, lemme hold that for you."

"Thanks," Addy breathed out, grabbing the purse strap and hoisting it higher. "But yeah, I have a new recipe we've gotta try. Lots of spice."

"Sounds great!" Mina agreed. "I made a lemon pound cake this morning. I'll bring some along for dessert." She handed the umbrella back. "I'll walk back a bit with you. I'm not getting much work done here." She grabbed her bag off of the floor, slinging it over her shoulder, and they headed to the door.

"Hold my coffee?" Addy asked as she nudged the coffee shop door open. Mina took her friend's cup. Addy pushed the release on her umbrella and situated it too cover both of them before taking her cup back and they quickly began making their way down the street. "How's the first edit coming along?"

"About the same as any first edit," Mina replied, downing the last bit of coffee from her cup and tossing it into the first trash bin they passed. "But it'll get done."

"When does the publisher want you to turn it in to them for all their fancy pants editing?"

Mina laughed. "I still have a couple months. The actual writing of this one came along pretty quickly and there wasn't much I wanted to change. This edit is going pretty okay, actually. I was working on one of the last chapters ba… SHIT." Mina stopped quickly.

"What is it?" Addy asked, alarmed.

"I left the pages I was working on in Finnegan's," Mina explained, frustrated. " I have to go back."

"Okay," Addy nodded. "Six tonight for dinner?"

"I'll be there."

"See ya then!" Addy yelled back, continuing on to her office.

Mina sighed and turned quickly to head back to the coffee shop and immediately slammed into the person behind her. "I am _so_ sorry," she quickly exclaimed, grabbing onto his arms for a moment to keep from falling backwards. Her left hand grabbed what felt like a regular arm, while her right hand grabbed something that felt distinctly harder. She jerked both hands back and looked up to see the man from the coffee shop. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," she continued.

"It's okay," he said softly, cutting off her apology. "You ran off and left this." He ducked under the craft shop awning they were standing by and pulled out the pages of her manuscript from where he'd tucked them under his jacket.

* * *

He sat in Finnegan's and stared out at the dark streets, watching the rain hit the ground and make patterns in the puddles.

Bucky didn't mind the slow pace his life had taken on since he'd settled down in this town. He had thought he'd start going stir crazy by the monotony of days filled with working in a garage, visiting the library and bookshops, and spending many of his days off sitting in a coffee shop. However, as time went on, he started to feel more comfortable. He liked his very old, very crotchety boss, the people who worked in the library and bookshops were helpful with their suggestions, and eventually everyone at the coffee shop knew what he wanted to drink before he even said it. He never relaxed completely—that would be foolish. He was still wanted by multiple groups. But there was peace in knowing it was unlikely that he'd be shot at here. Not to mention, he wasn't killing anyone, whether of his own volition during a war, or under orders from Hydra that he was powerless refuse. He might always be watching his back, but even the most covert agents would easily stand out to him here.

Which was how he knew that the woman who'd been staring at him for the past few minutes wasn't a threat. Only lost in thought or curious. She was also a regular. She usually brought some papers with her or a notebook. Bucky thought she might be a professor at the university—she was just slightly too old to be a student—but could never tell what she was working on. Occasionally she'd bring a book that she would become so wrapped up in her expressions would give away what type of scene was happening in the novel. She was fun to watch at those times, but she didn't often look at _him_. Very deliberately, Bucky let his body tense a little and turned to look at her. He smiled a little as her gaze fell back down to the table and the marked pages she'd brought with her, mumbling something he couldn't quite make out. Even from this poor angle and with her long dark hair falling down to cover her face, Bucky could see red splotches pop up on her cheeks—the only sign that she was embarrassed to have been caught.

Bucky looked away for a moment as another customer, a redheaded woman, came in and went to the counter to order. Bucky took a drink of his coffee and went back to watching the woman across from him as she picked up her pen and made a few notes on the paper she was reading. He was mildly aware that he could approach her. Introduce himself. Ask her name. He could say he'd seen her here before and ask what she was always working on, what her favorite books were. He could walk over right then and maybe make a friend. Something he'd failed to do in the year he'd been here, unless you counted his boss, Montgomery.

She raised her gaze to him, and they looked at each other for a moment. He could get up, go over, and ask to sit with her. But if he asked about her, she would ask about him. He winced slightly at the thought and looked away. What was he supposed to say then?

He watched the people out on the sidewalk and covered his mouth for a moment to hide a smile when the redhead approached the woman across from him, making her jump. He tuned out the conversation the women started in favor of looking back out the window and wishing he'd decided to bring a book after all. He was in the middle of _The Mauritius Command_ by Patrick O'Brian. The series the book was a part of had been one of the recommendations from a librarian and he'd been enjoying it.

Finishing his coffee, he walked to the trash can behind him to throw away his cup. When he turned around, he saw the two friends leaving and started walking toward the door to do the same. Passing the table she'd been sitting at, he saw the papers and her pen still lying there forgotten. Without a second thought, he picked them up and walked quickly to the door. He slid the pen into his pocket and tucked the papers underneath his jacket. He stepped out into the rain and looked around. He spotted the them hurrying off and followed, not running, but with a quick enough pace to catch them. Fortunately, he saw the dark haired woman stop, speaking quickly to her friend. The redhead moved on while Bucky caught up to the other. He opened his mouth to get her attention, but no words came out as she turned quickly and slammed into him.

"I'm so sorry," she said, apologetically, bracing herself automatically against him. He saw something flash across her face as she jerked her hands back to herself and looked up at him. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

_Shit_, he thought. _She felt my arm_. "It's okay," he muttered quickly. "You ran off and left this." He moved off to the side near a little shop to keep the pages from getting wet as he pulled them out.

She looked down at them and seemed surprised. "Oh! Thank you," she replied, taking them. "I remembered I'd left them when I turned around and tried to take you down." She smiled at him and lifted the flap on her back, unzipping it and tucking the pages away safely.

He pulled out her pen and handed it to her. "This, too."

"Thanks," she said again, tucking the pen into her own pocket. "I'm sorry again for running into you. I usually watch where I'm going a little better." She was giving him a searching look that was doing its best to make him uncomfortable.

"It's really okay," he said, taking a small step back. "No harm done."

"Well, thank you. Again." Her gaze flitted over his face and he could almost feel her wanting to ask another question. "I'm sorry," she said, abruptly. "This is probably going to sound like a weird question and I'm probably imagining things and I usually don't just ask questions of people I randomly meet around town, I promise."

Warnings were going off in Bucky's brain to move away from this woman, but he also knew that, logically, she wasn't a threat. Her rambling wasn't the affected kind a spy would use, but genuine nervousness.

"Is… I just… You look like…" She spoke like she wasn't sure how to phrase the question and in that moment, Bucky knew what she was going to ask. "Is your name James? James Barnes?"

_Almost_, Bucky thought. He'd expected 'Are you the Winter Soldier?' The sound of his actual name surprised him and he froze where he stood. He didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't know if he wanted to answer that question. She seemed to understand.

She lowered her voice even though it was unlikely that the few people hurrying past them could hear them over the pouring rain or were even paying any attention, anyway. "It is, isn't it?" She asked, but he knew she wasn't expecting an answer. "It's just… when I grabbed you. Your arm." Her eyes flicked slightly to his left arm.

Almost without thought, Bucky moved his bionic arm back, further away from her, though he noticed she didn't actually seem afraid. "I won't hurt you, I don't do that anymore," Bucky muttered, quietly.

"It's okay," she tried to reassure him. "I know."

"You know?" He asked quickly, confused.

She hesitated, then explained. "A couple years ago, when all those files were dumped onto the internet, I read through bunch of them. Not even close to all of them, but a lot. I have a friend who's a professor at NYU. He taught a class on ethics and used the files on you for the class. I read through them." She paused, shaking her head a bit. "What Hydra did to you was terrible," she whispered. "I can't even begin to imagine… Then the parts of the reports that said you start to remember your past if you're left too long…" She took a deep breath and looked back up at him. "The first time I saw you, I thought you looked familiar, but I couldn't place you. I just realized that it was because of the pictures in the file."

Bucky's chest was feeling tight. Someone knew who he was. He'd found a relatively safe place for himself, and now he might have to run again. "You don't seem that threatened by me right now." He suggested, looking across the street to a couple that were screaming, obviously upset, couple.

"I don't think I need to be," she replied, drawing his attention back to her. She was looking him dead in the eyes, holding his gaze, forcing him to hear her. "You've been here a long time. If you wanted to hurt people, you could. No one around here would be able to stop you. Not if you were still controlled by Hydra or even if you wanted to. But I know you ran years ago and fell off the grid. I think you just wanna be left alone. You're not the Winter Soldier." He flinched a bit at the title. "You're just James Barnes." She smiled at him and held out her hand. "My name is Mina. Mina Byrne."

He looked down at the offering for a moment before reaching out and shaking her hand.

"Don't worry, Mr. Barnes. I won't tell anyone you're here or who you are. Promise."

To say Bucky was dumbfounded by this woman would be an understatement. He wanted to tell her she shouldn't trust him just like that and that he was dangerous. He expected to see some sort of lie in her that meant he'd have to abandon the little home he'd made for himself. But he didn't. And a growing part of him that desperately wanted to connect with someone, have someone to have coffee with now and again, was glad that none of the training he had had detected a single lie or threat to his safety from her.

"Bucky," he said as they both released the handshake. She gave him a questioning look as if she hadn't heard him. "I prefer Bucky."

She smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky."

The tightness that was in his chest eased up a little. "It's nice to meet you, too."

* * *

A/N: Hello, dear readers and thank you for visiting. I'm feeling very inspired by music for this fic. Since adding lyrics is not allowed, I'll be leaving songs that inspire the chapters (if applicable) here at the end as suggestions for your listening pleasure. I'll also probably be borrowing titles or lines from the songs and marking those out clearly. For instance, this chapter was helped along greatly by _Here's That Rainy Day_ performed by Frank Sinatra. Sinatra is probably going to feature a lot as inspiration, won't lie. :)

Anyway, thank you to all who read and please consider letting me know what you think. Until next time, I hope you're safe and happy!


	3. That's Life

Chapter 2: That's Life

Bucky listened to Montgomery's story as he replaced all the tools he'd used that day into one of the cabinets along the back wall. Montgomery was strict about everything being in its proper place. He insisted that he liked order, but Bucky realized soon after he'd started on at the garage that Montgomery's eyesight wasn't what it once was and he relied a great deal on his memory of where things, especially small things, had always been.

"So the idiot insists I have to pull over just after we get off the bridge," Montgomery told Bucky, waving his hands. "Won't tell me why, just insists I pull off the road. What does he do? He walks back up on the bridge, undoes his pants, and pisses onto the road below! Then he just comes back, gets back into the truck, and says we can carry on. And I said, 'Bill…' I said, 'Bill, this is why I have a hard time trustin' you.'"

Bucky laughed. "I'm sure you'll find a way to pay him back," he said, closing the cabinet.

"Equal to exposing oneself and pissing off an overpass?"

"Equal but different," Bucky clarified, grinning.

Bucky met Montgomery the first day he'd come to town and started working for him on the second. Bucky had ignored the "Help Wanted" sign when he'd first passed the garage, but the sight of the Citroen Traction Avant had made him stop short. He hung back for a couple of minutes and just stared at the car that he'd remembered seeing in the streets all those years back. He'd barely even noticed the man leaning over a work table.

"_Well, don't just stand there. Have some manners. Come in and say hello."_

_Bucky slowly walked into the garage, stopping about ten feet from the man who'd called to him._

"_You know how to work on a car like this?"_

_The question startled Bucky and he gave the man a confused look but didn't answer._

"_Would you know what you're doing with the engine? Or the body work?"_

_Buck blinked a couple of times. "The engine, yeah. I know something about them. The body… no."_

"_You a fast learner?" _

_Bucky shrugged. "Depends."_

"_You gonna be stickin' around for a while?"_

"_I think so."_

"_If you can actually work on the engine, I can teach you about the rest."_

_Bucky shook his head. "I'm sorry?"_

_The man gestured to the sign in the window. "Been looking for help for a while now. Not many around here who know how to work on these older cars, or maybe they don't care to, and so far I haven't met anyone patient enough to learn. You patient?"_

"_Yes, sir," Bucky replied, unsure of exactly what he was signing up for._

"_I'm looking for another pair of hands around here. Used to be able to work quickly on my own. Age is slowing me down. Job's yours if you want it." He walked over to Bucky and held out his hand. "Name's Montgomery, by the way."_

_Bucky cautiously shook the man's hand. "James."_

"_Pleasure to meet you, James. So what do you say? Interested in helping out around here?"_

"_How do you know I'm not lying about the engine part?"_

_Montgomery shrugged and looked Bucky up and down. "You're military, right? I know the look." Bucky nodded. "Enough vets coming home not able to make ends meet. If you are lying about knowing your way around an engine, I'll teach you that, too. But you don't seem the type."_

_Bucky realized he could be comfortable in this place. He also knew that he'd need a way to make money if he did want to settle into a place, and he preferred any way other than stealing what he needed. "Yeah, I'd like to work here."_

_Montgomery clapped. "Good!" He walked to the front of the garage and pulled the "Help Wanted" sign off the window. "Getting ready to close for the day, but you can start tomorrow morning. I'm always in at seven sharp, but you don't need to come in till eight if you're not much of an early riser."_

"_I can be here at seven," Bucky told him. _

_Montgomery nodded as if he knew that was the reply he was going to get. "Just so you know, I'll pay you well, but I'll be paying you in cash, if it's all the same to you. Where you staying, by the way?"_

_Bucky shoved his gloved hands in his pockets. "I dunno yet. Only arrived this morning."_

_Montgomery nodded. "Figured as much. I know the couple who owns the bookshop down the street. They live a few roads down, but there's an apartment above their shop they've been looking to rent out. Most people who rent around here are students and don't stay year round. They'll cut you better deal than usual, long as you're a good tenant."_

_Bucky shifted on his feet. "I don't have the money right now."_

_Montgomery waved him off. "Give me a minute to lock up here. We'll go talk to them. I'll tell them you're just starting here. They haven't had good luck with student renters in the past and I'm sure they'll jump at the chance to have someone a little neater."_

Bucky had learned that Montgomery specialized in restoring old cars. He never had more than one in the garage at a time and Bucky wondered how he managed to stay in business. As Montgomery had explained, there were a lot of people who like to restore old cars, but then there were those who liked owning old cars, but didn't want the hassle of working on them. He was proven right as people from all around the area, and some people from pretty far away, brought cars for them to restore and were willing to pay a high price for Montgomery's expert services. Bucky had had to get used to calling cars from the 30s and 40s, and even later, 'antiques.' Montgomery had kept to his word and taught Bucky about restoring all parts of the cars they were brought. He explained that usually people only worked on restoring certain types of cars, but it had always been what he was interested in, and he was always willing to learn about models he'd not worked on before. Bucky admired the man's knowledge and equally his honesty when he _didn't_ know about a certain model of car.

Montgomery had also helped Bucky get the apartment that was owned by Bill and Connie Richmond. Upon Bucky's first meeting them, Connie had immediately offered him tea and dinner, reminding him exactly of a younger version of the tiny old lady who lived in the apartment below Steve in Brooklyn. Bill and Montgomery wasted no time in regaling Bucky of their younger, ornerier years, though Bucky had suspected they were still plenty ornery. He would later learn he was right.

Before the end of dinner, Bill was offering the apartment above their bookstore to Bucky with a hold on the first month's rent.

"_You'll be doing us a favor just keeping it tidy," Bill insisted. "Connie is busy most of the day with everything that needs to be done in the store, and the stairs up to the place are steep and my knees aren't what they used to be. Besides, if Montgomery speaks for you that means something."_

"_That's very generous, sir," Bucky began._

"_Name's Bill, please. Sir makes me feel old. Never understood that saying before I got old myself."_

_Bucky smiled a bit and started again. "That's very generous, Bill, but all the same, I'd like to pay for the first month somehow."_

_Bill nodded. "Expected as much. Tell you what, a new semester is beginning, we'll be getting shipments of textbooks in. Help me unload and stock in the evenings and that'll be more than enough. Always hard to keep up with just ourselves." He gestured between himself and Connie. "We can always use someone younger for the heavy stuff… and all textbooks are heavy."_

_Bucky hesitated. "If you're sure that's enough…."_

_Connie laughed. "Wait till you see how many books we get in," she said. "It's enough."_

Bucky had soon learned that Bill and Connie were still very capable for all their talk, but they had not been kidding about the amount of books that came in and continued to come in. He worked with Montgomery during the day and returned back to the bookstore in the evening to receive the shipments off of the truck and help unpack and stock the shelves. Montgomery was always chattering away and Bucky suspected that he was just as happy to have someone to talk to during the day as he was to have someone to help with the work. Sometimes he was in a mood and could be crotchety and stubborn, especially when a customer wanted something done to their car that he considered 'disrespectful to the model.'

"I've got no problem with folks wanting their vehicle to be more fuel efficient. That's just common sense. But who in their right mind asks for a Parthenon grille on a SS Jaguar 100? Honestly, these people have too much money and too little brains. It's not a Rolls."

Bucky learned to read Montgomery easily enough and knew that a customer mixing vehicles was good for a solid two days of complaining. During these two days, Montgomery would come up with a slew of impressively creative insults.

Bill and Connie were a little quieter in their work. Although Connie would help carry boxes into the storeroom for a while, she always stopped earlier and began to update the information in the computer by the register so that there'd be a stack of boxes ready for Bill and Bucky to unpack and place on the shelves. They did talk sometimes in the evening, though Bucky could tell they preferred a more peaceful workplace. At the end of the evening, they'd always insist that Bucky join them for dinner at their house. Somehow Connie always managed to make Bucky feel guilty about saying no, and he would find himself seated in their kitchen listening to stories that they both seemed to have an endless supply of. A couple of times during the month, Montgomery would join them as well and those nights generally ended in a jovial argument about who did what and what had _actually_ happened. Bucky quickly began to understand that Montgomery and Bill were fairly laidback when apart, but when they were together each acted as the instigator for each other's more unruly behavior. Connie, for her part, took it all in stride and Bucky began to suspect that she could be just as mischievous.

Although being around Bill and Connie was nice, Bucky was relieved when the month ended and he was able to stay in his small apartment most nights. He'd taken to writing down his memories in a notebook to help regain them and be able to hold onto them more solidly. While he remembered a lot of what he had been, he still found himself forgetting basic facts and the memories that he did remember sometimes slipped away. Eventually he had several notebooks full of memories, unsure of how real they were, but wanting to hold onto them anyway. He had told Bill and Connie enough that they knew he had some type of amnesia that he wanted to work on, so they understood when he stopped joining them for dinner each night.

"Have anything fun planned for tonight?" Montgomery asked.

"Just stopping by the library then going home," Bucky replied.

Montgomery shook his head. "You're still a young man. You should go out and have fun sometimes."

Bucky smiled back. "I have too much fun with you here. Afterwards I have to go home and read a book just so I don't get too out of hand."

Montgomery came close to rolling his eyes. "That's damn near the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Bucky laughed a little and picked his pack up off the table in the corner, slinging it over his shoulder. "I'm fine, Montgomery. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Montgomery waved him out. "Yeah, yeah. See you in the a.m."

A ten minute walk ended with Bucky entering the public library. He nodded hello to the woman behind the counter and slid his book into the return slot. He made his way over to the fiction area intent on picking up the next book in the Patrick O'Brian series. As he walked past the aisles, something caused him to stop short. He backed up a step and looked down to see Mina sitting halfway down an aisle in the nonfiction area. There were several books open around her and she was reading the one in her hand intently with a piece of paper unfolded beside her. There was a part of Bucky that thought he should move on and not bother her as she was concentrating so intensely, but after noticing what was on the pages of some of the books she had open, another, bigger, part of him was curious enough to approach her.

"So, if you're not drinking coffee are you generally studying gunshot wounds in medical books?" He asked, smiling a little when she jumped.

Looking up at him, her surprise turned to a bright smile. "Well, I'll have you know that sometimes I have tea." She quickly extricated herself from the books on her lap and stood. "And technically I was doing research on stab wounds, but then I got sidetracked."

"Oh, well that makes perfect sense," Bucky teased, lightly. "Why stab wounds?"

"Actually, any type of wound caused by a blade," Mina explained. "It's research for something that happens in a scene I'm writing. I'm just making sure it makes sense." She bent to start gathering the books on the floor.

"You're a writer?" Bucky asked, helping her.

"I am, indeed."

"The published kind or the for enjoyment kind?" Bucky asked as they both stood back up.

"Both," she answered as she placed a couple of the books back on the shelf. "I enjoy it, but I'm also lucky enough that it pays the bills."

"So if I go to Byrne in fiction, will I find one of your books?"

"You will not. I publish under a pen name."

"Which is…."

"To be found out."

Bucky smiled a little, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Mina. For as bumpy as their first meeting had been, and for as few people as he talked to on the whole, he was surprised at how simple it was to fall into the conversation with her. It helped that she knew who he was. He'd never have to tell her a lie about where he'd come from or his past. Though, he realized, he wasn't exactly going to be open about all of it…. But at least she would be more likely to understand when and if he said there were things he didn't want to talk about. He couldn't trust her completely, but there was something very freeing in not having to hide his identity. Moreover, it'd been five days since their first meeting on the street and neither Hydra nor any of the Avengers had turned up in town. She'd kept her promise to keep his secret.

"You don't want me to read what you've written?"

"I'm shy," she answered him quickly. Bucky noticed a crack in how she'd said it. She'd meant to keep up the lighthearted tone of the conversation, but the flicker in her eyes said she was very much telling the truth. She was very shy about her work.

"What kind of books do you write?" He asked instead.

"Fantasy."

"What made you want to write fantasy?"

She grinned. "This is quite the line of questioning."

Bucky barked out a short laugh. "I'm sorry, it's been a little while since I've… done this."

Mina's smile softened. "Then you won't understand how cliché my answer is when I say that _The Lord of the Rings_ is the reason I started writing fantasy."

"A lot of people like it?" He asked.

She nodded. "Um… I think it was out… Did you ever read _The Hobbit_ way back when?"

A spark went off in Bucky's head. "Of course! Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf, whole bunch of dwarves. People were wild over it. Steve and I read when it was published even though it was technically meant for kids."

Mina took the book that Bucky was still holding and placed it on the two she had kept. "Come on," she said, tilting her head in a gesture to follow her. She led him past aisles of books to the fiction section, turned quickly down the row she wanted and stopped halfway through. Reaching up, she pulled a huge book off of the shelf and handed it to Bucky. "This is what Tolkien published later. In the 50s. The ring that Bilbo finds in the cave during his meeting with Gollum has slightly more significance.

"He continued the story?" Bucky asked, turning the book to read the back.

"He did. It has a different feel to it than _The Hobbit_, though. This one is more meant for adults… Still, plenty of kids read it. I read it the first time when I was nine." Mina readjusted the books she held. "He opened the world up so much. He created languages for the different races of Middle Earth, even. There's a series of histories to go with it. And they were all made into movies, as well."

Bucky looked down at the large book he held in his hands. "Now that you mention it, I think I heard talk of the movies."

"Probably," Mina nodded. "They were kinda huge. Even now that it's years later. People like to reference them a lot."

Bucky smiled at her. "So this inspired you to start writing, huh?"

"It did."

"Then I guess I have to try it for myself."

"Then I hope you enjoy it."

They stood quietly for a moment in the aisle and Bucky was wondering what else to say. He remembered that he used to be good at talking to people. He could always find something to comment or, when it was time, the right way to end the conversation. Now, he felt slightly lost. The times of being at ease around people, especially women, seemed so very far away now in more than just years.

"So what are your plans for the evening?" Mina asked, breaking the silence.

Bucky was a little surprised, but answered quickly. "I'm just going back to my apartment, making dinner and reading."

"Would you want to come to my house for dinner instead?"

Bucky had not been expecting that offer. "Your house?" He nearly stuttered out.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "If you're not joining someone…We could talk some more, if you want."

"I don't want to intrude…" Bucky started.

"Oh, it's no intrusion," Mina assured him. "I'm normally alone for dinner, so company would be welcome."

Bucky's mind was stacking up with all the reasons he should say no to her. He should go home and write down more memories. He was dangerous. He shouldn't get tangled up in friendships, especially with someone it wasn't necessary to know. He had to work and he had to stay somewhere, so Montgomery, Bill, and Connie were _necessary_ acquaintances and they didn't know who he really was. Mina did. He knew that by spending more time around her, getting to know her more, he could be putting her at risk if someone were to find him. He didn't know what the risk might be, but it was always there. Still, there was a part of him that very much wanted to say yes to her. She knew who he was but she talked to him as if he were simply a regular man she'd met one day, not like a trained assassin who'd run away from his handlers and his childhood best friend. And he desperately wanted someone to talk to. He didn't know if he and Mina could be friends, but he did want to try. Given what she knew about his past, the fact that she'd even offered had surprised him.

"You're not afraid for me to know where you live? To come to your home, even?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head at him. "Why would I be?"

He blinked a couple of times. "Well, I'm a random man and you don't know me. Also, I'm…" He trailed off for a moment. "Ya know…. Me."

She shrugged and shifted the books in her arms again. "If you wanted to hurt me, it wouldn't be difficult for you to do. It's not exactly hard to find where I live, and you'd have no problem getting in." A dark look crossed Mina's face that Bucky had no trouble picking up on. "If anyone wants to hurt someone they'll find a way, really. A locked door isn't going to stop them." She blinked a bit, shook her head and the sadness cleared from her face. "You're not going to hurt me, Bucky." She stated firmly, looking him in the eye. "You're just not the type. Super soldier assassin or not. And even if you did, there's not a damn thing I could do to stop you."

If Bucky had begun to feel like Mina didn't really grasp the reality of what Bucky had been and still could be, he didn't anymore. Something in her honesty made him realize that she was more intuitive than he'd thought and she definitely wasn't stupid or trusting him blindly. He swallowed thickly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

A soft smile came to Mina's face. "Good."

* * *

Sam Wilson wasn't frustrated, but he was getting there. "Every lead that says he went to Europe has gone cold, man. With the state of security in airports, it's unlikely he was able to catch a flight out of the States."

"So do we think he's still in the city?" Steve Rogers asked as they walked together along the corridor in Stark's tower.

"Big city, easy to hide. But no sightings." Same shrugged. "His face was flashed everywhere in D.C. and NYC for months. If he's here, he's changed his look or he is so far off the grid we might as well not bother."

Steve nodded. "He'd have learned to lay low with Hydra."

"That's what I'm saying," Same agreed. "If he's here, we're not gonna find him."

Steve sighed. "So we're out of luck until he wants to be found?"

Sam raised a hand to bring them to a halt and handed Steve the folder he'd brought with him. "Option three. There are several reports of him turning up in both D.C. and NYC for shorter periods of time. One report was even in your old neighborhood. No photos so we can't be for sure, but the person who reported it, sounded, and I quote "strangely lucid" for the batch of people who reported sightings. But then, a year and a couple months ago, sightings started popping up here in the states heading away from major cities. I'm thinking I'm gonna start checking up on those now."

Steve flipped through the file and listened to his friend. "I really appreciate you doing this Sam, you know that?"

Sam shrugged. "It's no problem, Cap. Kinda fun playing detective. I just hope we can bring him back."

"Hey boys. How's it going?"

Sam and Steve turned to see Natosha Romanov coming down the adjacent hallway.

"Why do you look so chipper?" Sam asked. Steve smiled a bit.

"Possible new bad guy to go after," she replied, holding up a folder of her own. "I found you as soon as I heard because there's something you'll both need to know."

"Who is it and what's special about him?" Steve asked.

"We don't know who yet, but we do know what they're after. Sort of."

"That's…helpful," Sam half said, half asked.

Natasha hesitated for a moment. "We're not sure who he is, but he's looking for Bucky."

Steve's eyes shot up from looking at the data in the folder. "Bucky? Do we know what they want with him?"

"Not yet, but they're being loud about the search. They definitely _want_ us to know what they're doing. We're trying to track where all of the web searches are coming from but so far whoever this is is all over the place. We haven't been able to nail them down. We think they're also interested in the serum used on Bucky." Natasha paused. "_Specifically_ the serum used on Bucky. They haven't shown any interest in finding the formula for the serum that was used on you."

Steve nodded. "That makes sense. Erskine's formula is long gone. They never were able to reproduce it."

Natasha nodded. "And whoever this is knows that. They have at least a little bit of information already."

Sam, who'd been reading the report over Steve's shoulder looked up. "They're looking for Bucky? Anything that says they're having any luck?"

Natasha shook her head. "Dunno. Maybe."

"Can we find out where they're looking?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

"I'd like that info," Sam said.

Steve looked at him. "You think this person can do a better job than you?"

Sam gave Steve a half grin. "I'm hoping I can use their tracking to support mine." Sam's smile fell. "Gotta use everything possible. Seems like it's a race now."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, and if they're looking for the serum, also, I doubt they just want to ask Bucky how he's doing."

Natasha crossed her arms. "You're not wrong. At least so far it doesn't seem like Hydra is behind this. Everything reads like this is either an individual or a pair acting on their own."

"Hydra or not," Steve said. "This isn't good. We've gotta be the first to find Bucky."

* * *

A/N: Hello and welcome back to this story!

First, thank you to littlestoryfreak for your review! I'm so glad you are enjoying it!

The song inspiration for this chapter was Frank Sinatra's That's Life. Awesome stuff.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! If you like, lemme know what you think!

Stay safe, everyone.


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